Quite the Profiler
by enticingaffair
Summary: Part of a Christmas exchange.     Prompt: Morgan and Reid are in pursuit of an unsub.  The tables are turned and they become the hunted. They seek shelter in a small space.


Reid should've known better, or at least pretended to know better. His IQ of 187 was a formidable opponent when profiling (Morgan often liked to tease him on being "quite the profiler", not that Reid could see anything wrong with that) or presenting facts pertaining to just about anything. He could easily tell you how many serial killers there were in the United States last year and in Maryland. He could even tell you the traffic patterns in San Francisco—which really aggravated Morgan who never seemed to read _any_ of the reports they were sent. However, his IQ really was unhelpful when it came to being in the field. It was bad enough he'd failed his arms test once, but since then—no matter how much target practice he put in with Morgan and Prentiss after work—nothing seemed to help. Reid couldn't say that he was the worst shot in the B.A.U but he knew he was pretty close.

Maybe that was why he chose to be first on the scene, to jump out of the black SUV with no regard towards his safety, forgoing his Kevlar vest and even leaving his gun tucked safely away in the glove box. If he brought it and fired, he might miss and harm another agent, specifically Morgan who was closest to the scene or he could hit and kill the unsub. His total disregard to protocol could also be due to the fact that he felt a sense of duty to this particular unsub. A young man, upon turning 18, promptly checked himself out of his institution (as he was committed a minor) and began killing prostitutes, something he'd told Reid previously he'd really wanted to do. This was one time Reid wished his eidetic memory would have taken a day off.

Gideon had said that if Nathan started killing, they'd be there to catch him and they were. However, it didn't alleviate the sense of guilt and responsibility that ate its way through Reid's mind ultimately clouding his better judgment. He'd been the one to evaluate Nathan and say he was no threat to society. Profiling himself, maybe it had been his emotions that clouded his logical thinking especially with Nathan. Nathan had started out as such a good person, Reid had saved him from suicide…had saved a killer.

Emotional reasoning supported Reid's quick decision making, and he knew now—as he moved his way through the semi-abandoned townhouse—that guilt played a larger role over the subconscious than he'd previously thought.

Creeping around the interior stairs, Reid pressed his back against the staircase door. He knew the probability of Nathan being armed was high. After all, what unsub wouldn't be? If Nathan had his weapon of choice, it would be a knife; however without the Kevlar Reid stood a very good chance of being seriously harmed. Knife wounds accounted for 13% of violent deaths in the U.S. alone and as John Blackwolf stated inside 21 feet the attacker with the knife had the upper hand. It took 41 seconds to register an attacker, reach for the firearm and shoot it thusly giving the attacker an advantage. Seeing as Reid was currently inside a smaller townhouse, he knew there would not be a chance to keep Nathan and himself 21 feet apart. Being without a firearm meant Reid really had no defense no matter what the time and distance between them.

He'd like to believe that Nathan would remember him and not want to harm him; however, Reid knew what institutions did to people. They changed them, and Nathan was obviously not taking his medication thusly he would less likely be the person Reid remembered. Maybe not even the person Reid helped release.

His mind raced with the 204 ways his actions and decisions were wrong and what Hotch would do to him once he found out. After the stunt he pulled with Owen in Texas, Hotch would be right to suspend him. Maybe even relinquish his agent status. Reid closed his eyes briefly. He knew that Morgan was on his way and would probably chew him out before Hotch even arrived. But that could also give him a chance to plead his case to Morgan who just might help explain it all to their supervisor. Shaking his head and opening his eyes, Reid tried to focus on the task at hand. He would have to deal with the repercussions for his actions later, right now he had to find Nathan and talk him down before Morgan came in guns wielding.

Taking a slow, cautious step away from the door, Reid poked his head around the adjacent wall; leading into what he could only assume was a kitchen.

"Nathan?" he whispered. If he didn't sneak up on the young man then he'd stand a better chance of not being harmed. Reid took another step forward but froze upon hearing the closet door behind him creak open. How could he have forgotten to check that before leaning against it? Of course Nathan would be hiding; he knew the FBI was after him and were heavily armed. Nathan was suffering from a psychological break, but that didn't make him stupid. Reid went to turn but felt a hand yank on his shoulder, strongly, too strongly to be an 18 year old boy.

Turning as much as he could, brown eyes met with an angry looking Morgan. A gash above his left eye, indicating he was attacked on the way in. Why hadn't Reid heard that? Morgan couldn't have fallen quietly, assuming his body mass was greatly increased when he was knocked out there was no logical way he could have missed Morgan being attacked in the building or at the door.

"What happened to you?" he ventured, hoping Morgan would wipe off the angry look off his face.

"What do you think happened," Morgan countered releasing Reid's left shoulder, "Where's your vest? And gun? Nathan disarmed me and took mine."

As vague as the response was, it was a response nonetheless. But it didn't answer why Reid hadn't seen Morgan's SUV or at least heard Morgan being disarmed. "When did he? I didn't hear you, or him for that matter and I was first on the scene."

"Don't worry about it."

Reid's mind whirled. It seemed to happen all the time but more so when Morgan was around. It was like every fact and statistic wanted to come out just to keep the conversation moving. Morgan was the only one who ever seemed to listen anyway.

"It doesn't make sense. If you were disarmed in the house I should've heard your body hit the floor. Even if it was…" he prattled.

"Reid, drop it. It doesn't matter."

Morgan's voice was harsh and his body more rigid than when the conversation started. Reid knew inter-team profiling was against the rules per say but he couldn't help it when it came to Morgan. Ever since his encounter with the Reaper, Morgan was more rattled about being disarmed no matter who the unsub was.

Reid could see it in the way Morgan stood, his shoulders slightly back, his body tight and on edge. His face, of course, was just as easy to profile: the gash, the clenching of his jaw, his dark eyes thinner than normal. Reid knew the longer they stood there, the longer Morgan's rage and unease would increase. Conceding, Reid replied. "I thought I could reach him without posing a threat." He motioned towards Morgan's eye. "Being armed didn't achieve anything other than giving him a weapon, I thought—"

Before he could finish, the wood above their heads creaked, bending with heavy determined footsteps. Footsteps that seemed to be pacing back and forth, almost as if Nathan was contemplating his actions. Was Reid right? Was he really no threat to society but had only reached a breaking point unavoidable with one's discharge from an extremely structured environment to one of utter chaos?

Reid went to dash towards the stairs—Nathan had been upstairs—he had to talk him down before the rest of the team arrived. Nathan had killed too many women and was obviously too unstable for this to end other than tragically—but again Morgan yanked on his left shoulder, practically throwing him into the stairwell itself.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"That's obviously Nathan—"

"And you are an unarmed, unprotected FBI agent. He'll kill you," Morgan countered, as the footsteps drew closer to the stairs.

Reid knew Morgan was right, but what other course of action did they have? It was_ his_ fault that Nathan had done these things. He'd vouched for him and he knew he couldn't let a disturbed young man be killed by an array of bullets. Not another one. "Morgan, he…"

Before the sentence finished, Reid found himself slammed into the tiny closet underneath the stairs. Being 6'1, forced both agents to bend slightly, as Morgan shut the door quietly behind them. The space was never meant for people—as was apparent by the abandoned appliances that crammed the slender shelves—nor was meant for two grown men, one too tall and one too muscular. It was barely 3 feet wide, and Reid could only assume it was a little over 5 ½ feet high. Reid felt Morgan press himself against his chest, their faces only centimeters apart.

"I am not letting you get killed for this kid," Morgan whispered, steadying himself with a hand on either side of Reid's head, catching his brown splayed hair against the wall.

Reid wanted to comment on the fact that if Nathan had Morgan's gun, he could find them, shoot Morgan and then Reid. After all, a bullet travelling 1100 feet per second could easily fly through one human skull and into the other. Not only that, but the Kevlar vest could only protect their chests. He wanted to point out that as valiant as Morgan's course of action was, it was trapping them, and with only luck could they be sure Nathan wouldn't find them. This was the only stairwell in the entire home, seeing as it was a two story. Nathan would know they couldn't hide in a regular closet, as shelves would line the interior. He must have also taken into consideration that Morgan was unarmed. Nathan was probably trying to figure his way out of this situation and the only way was to take out the only two agents on the scene.

Reid wanted to express to Morgan that he did _not_ need saving, that he could handle this, but as soon as the older man's body heat seeped into his own, Reid found himself speechless. He knew if he moved slightly forward that their entire bodies would be pressed against each other, every inch of the other man's body would force Reid's to betray him.

He couldn't honestly deny that Morgan was attractive, probably the most physically and mentally attractive male he'd seen in a while. The agent was also the only one who Reid felt any sort of closeness or attraction to. He saw the man more than most, and to turn a blind eye to all things that made Derek Morgan desirable would be unheard of. He knew part of it could be due to the group consensus. Most of the BAU females (Prentiss and JJ aside…Prentiss would probably sooner admit that Rossi was more attractive than Morgan though that was more her attempt to reign in Morgan's ego than truth) fawned over him. Not to say Reid fawned, because he didn't. But he couldn't deny that Morgan was exceptionally attractive. Morgan took pride in his physical appearance and it would be an injustice for Reid not to notice.

Closing his eyes and licking his bottom lip, Reid tried desperately to say something logical, to ask Morgan to take a slight step back. There were only a handful of times he'd ever been this close to another human being in his entire life, and one of those times was with a co-worker. Well, technically they were cadets in FBI training. So really, he'd never been in this situation with a co-worker.

Unsure on what to do, Reid took a deep breath and tried to recite the words from the dictionary in reverse alphabetical order. Seeing as he only got to macrocephaly—abnormal largeness of the head—Reid knew his brain was not getting its adequate blood flow. His mind was focusing on the feel of Morgan's strong arms just above his shoulders, his taut chest pressed tightly against Reid's (Kevlar aside, Reid was still turned on by the vastness of Morgan's upper body), and the determination in Morgan's chiseled face to "save" Reid from his own stupidity—which, he readily admits his stupidity in this current situation. Upon further inspection, it seemed there was one part of him getting the proper blood flow...possibly even more than usual.

"Morgan," he forced out, pushing his eyes open and causing the older man to place his hand over his mouth. Morgan nodded his head upwards, calling Reid's diverted attention to descending footsteps. Reid knew his heart should be pounding in fear of death, Nathan was eerily close, but found at this moment it wasn't. His body was reacting severely to Morgan's proximity, almost embarrassingly. His heart rate was elevated, his skin slightly flushed, his pupils dilated. His body was releasing its desire and Morgan could see it. He knew—as Morgan's entire body pressed tighter against his—that the other agent could even feel the more physical side of his attraction grow.

He attempted to resituate—to move his hips away from Morgan—but as he did he hit the shelf behind him, causing a loud thud. The shelf shook upon impact and fell to the floor. Reid froze as the heavily loud footsteps above their heads stopped and Morgan's hand instantly went to Reid's hips, slamming them back into his own body. Reid bit down hard on his lip to stop himself from letting out a grunt of sexual approval, his growing erection enjoying the touches from Morgan however unintentional they may be.

Reid ventured to move his eyes to Morgan's, as the older man would not let up on his mouth. Morgan seemed to be as stoic as he normally was under extreme stress. Reid shifted again, knowing full well that his hardened member was pressed flush against Morgan's upper thigh. Morgan was kind enough to not react to Reid's physical attraction but Reid had to at least attempt to get the blaringly obvious erection away from him. He wasn't sure if Morgan was extremely disgusted—given his past it wouldn't surprise him—or if he was choosing to ignore it altogether. Reid prayed for the latter, secretly hoping that Morgan wouldn't notice the blaringly obvious. Logically, however, given Morgan's "lesson" in the club, Reid knew Morgan was already very much aware of his state of arousal.

Either way, the pressing of Morgan's forehead into his temple took him by surprise and elevated his already labored breathing.

He could smell Morgan's aftershave. The spicy clean smell overpowering his weakest sense, forcing his mind to want to react, to reach out and press his body further into Morgan. He knew his hormones were overriding everything he'd learned in the academy but he couldn't help it. He found his body moving on its own, pushing slightly more into the other agent than was necessary.

"We're probably going to die, Reid," Morgan whispered into the younger agent's cheek his hand moving from Reid's mouth.

"Odds are not in our favor, the probability—" Reid started, his mind running to default, lest he have to admit he was feeling something so physical. Before he could blurt every statistic he had, he felt Morgan move his hips into his, almost purposefully.

He looked at Morgan, unsure what the other agent was playing at. Was this some sort of tease? Reid wished his mind was working properly, or at least functioning enough to profile Morgan and his intentions as clearly as he had before their proximity to one another had increased.

"Derek…"

Again, Morgan allowed Reid no time, taking a more subtle approach and forcing himself into the slimmer agent. Reid gasped and bit his lip, his head slightly flinging backwards into the wall. Morgan's one hand never left his hips, forcing Reid's back into his own—as Reid tried to pull them away—and then to move in sync with his. Reid struggled to figure out when Morgan had actually begun to feel this, but could only concede to the other's wishes. Feeling Morgan's other hand force its way into his hair, yanking on it, Reid was committed to the fact that Morgan was good at this physical aspect and was definitely deserving of the bragging he did.

Not as experienced but experienced nonetheless, Reid moved his hands to Morgan's back, running them over the large expanse of hard, taut muscles and thick Kevlar. He ground his hips into Morgan's, the other agent meeting him on random, causing everything to be more pleasurable. He couldn't stop what was happening, but he found he didn't care either.

Reid felt Morgan's breath hitch, the other's mouth pressed so closely to his own yet too far away. Taking the initiative—profiling even with half his normal brain function that Morgan would not take such a move without being absolutely sure—Reid turned his face slightly, forcing Morgan's mouth on top of his own. The other agent jumped in and forced a hard kiss on his lips. The hand in Reid's hair tightened while the other dug its fingers deeply into his hipbones.

His judgment was shot, any chance he had of saving this—their professional decency—was gone. Morgan kissed like he profiled, hard and determined, it was apparent that this was how he fucked as well. Reid gasped in Morgan's mouth as their erections rubbed together through their pants forcefully, his khakis offering no resistance to Morgan's jeans. Their kiss broke, Morgan panting slightly and placing his face to the left side of Reid's cheek.

"Fuck, pretty boy," Morgan grunted as their straining erections met again. Reid was past the point where his brain could care, or his conscious mind for that matter. It felt so good, too good that Reid could easily figure out why sex and lust drove unsubs to the end.

Reid pushed his lips against Morgan's again, kissing him as hard as he could manage. His fingers dug into Morgan's shoulder blades yanking on the Kevlar straps as Morgan's right knee found its way in between his own.

He knew that at any moment Nathan could come in and shoot them, and by all means, they would deserve it for doing this in the field, but Reid couldn't stop himself any more than it seemed Morgan could. Feeling the other's warm leg push roughly against his groin, Reid's body responded instinctually thrusting itself on top of it.

Their mouths broke instantly, as Reid's head dropped to Morgan's shoulder. They were moving in a mess of limbs, confined by a space never meant for such activities, Reid's own legs barely able to keep him stable as his hips practically rode Morgan's hard thigh. Morgan's hand tightened its grip on his one hip—guiding it to move faster—his harsh breathing echoing in Reid's ears before the other could yank back on Reid's hair forcing his face upwards.

Reid was vaguely aware of the muffled noises outside the closet—or was it above it—as Morgan's thigh became more demanding, rubbing harder and faster, thrusting Reid's conscious mind far from where it should actually be.

Neither took into consideration the aftermath, and when the closet door swung open, Morgan released every inch of Reid and spun on his heels. In an attempt to physically take down Nathan or to protect Reid, maybe both, but Reid couldn't be sure. His brain was sluggish, slower than he'd ever remember and he was not as quick to recover as Morgan. His mind was so fogged by lust that if this was going to be the end—if Nathan had found them—he was completely ok with dying right now. Blinking slowly, trying to garner any clear thoughts, he looked to the door.

Instead of Nathan—which Reid would've preferred at this moment—it was Hotch and Rossi whose guns were procedurally pointed at both of them. At least some of the team followed FBI protocol.

"Are you both alright?" Hotch asked methodically from behind his gun.

Reid wasn't sure where he was supposed to go from here. He knew he looked disheveled. His hair was more a mess than normal, thanks to Morgan's very determined hand, and his pants…

Reid moved quickly, desperately, realizing that his erection was full mast and Morgan was now not the only one who could see.

"Yes. I—well Morgan," Reid struggled to get his brain to spout off a statistic but it seemed embarrassment was winning out, as Rossi instantly profiled him. The lack of a statistic of some random fact pertaining to the case was probably the easiest thing for Hotch and Rossi to profile not to mention his physical appearance. It was in this moment, Reid's slight hero worship turned to dread. He knew Rossi—especially—could tell what was happening by Reid's face and Morgan's slight lack of movement.

Morgan stood and looked them head on, unconcerned with any physical signs that would betray what had just happened.

Reid had been sure that Morgan had been feeling the same things he had—well still was at this moment—but the other didn't squirm, it was as if he didn't care if Hotch or Rossi could figure out what had happened. Almost as if it was a silent "fuck you and your protocol" which Morgan tended to do when he was slightly in the wrong.

"Awfully warm under here," the Italian agent sighed, his gun dropping to his side "You two must have been under here a while."

"Reid and I were disarmed, Rossi," Morgan replied his body returning to the rigid profile it was before they entered the closet, "I thought on my feet and this is where we ended up."

"How did that happen?" Hotch asked "Reid, where is your…"

"Did you catch Nathan?" Morgan asked cutting Hotch off. Reid watched expressionlessly as Hotch stared him down then Morgan and replied with a curt yes.

Tucking his gun away, Hotch looked at both younger men. "We'll discuss the breaking of federal regulations on the jet. You have 5 before we debrief." Without another word, Hotch turned and left leaving a smug Rossi in his wake.

"So, bringing you both into a confined space where neither of you could leave had you been confronted by the unsub was the best you could come up with Derek?" he asked, his one eyebrow raising.

"I didn't want the kid to get killed. You would've done the same, Rossi," Morgan retorted his stance becoming more and more defensive.

Reid situated himself, trying to block his straining erection as Rossi backed out to allow them both space to exit.

"I don't know that I would have done it _exactly_ like that," Rossi replied, his voice normal. The man spoke volumes of his knowledge with so little words and Reid was sure he'd never live it down.

Rossi smiled and shrugged. "This debriefing should be…entertaining," he said before leaving them alone.

Reid was definitely unsure what to do now. Inter and intra personal relationships had never been something he was exceptionally good at and he'd never experienced this before. He knew this was not the place for the discussion of their actions, but they had to figure out what the hell all that was while they had the time to. After all, wasn't that why Hotch gave them 5?

"Most sexual relationships that begin under extreme stress tend to end badly for both parties involved. It ruins work relationships. Actually, sexual relationships that start in the workplace account for 12% of relationships and—" Reid babbled. At least his brain was working again and putting up a front for Morgan.

Morgan turned and smiled at Reid. "Where were those statistics when Hotch caught us red handed?" he teased before taking a step closer to Reid and dropping his hand on the younger man's shoulder. "You need to up your game, pretty boy. Pretend you're unaffected and they'll back off and go away."

Reid pursed his lips and crossed his arms over his chest. "That's the same advice my mother gave me for bullies."

"And did it work?"

"It worked on you."

"Clearly not well enough," Morgan laughed before turning and stepping out of the closet, Reid following suit.

Reid wanted to be satisfied with the avoidance Morgan had just displayed but found he couldn't. Biting his lip, he reached out and grabbed Morgan's shoulder.

"Morgan, we should approach this topic."

Again Morgan turned and smiled. "We'll fill out the report in my office. Garcia owes me a free pizza anyway and I can't eat it by myself."

Reid smirked and sighed. "Which translates into me doing the report."

"I saved your ass, that counts towards something. You owe me, man, for lying to Hotch." Morgan turned back around and walked outside the townhouse, the bright sun of mid-day blasting them in the eyes.

"Not to mention, being in your office makes it look like you're assisting and actually doing paperwork."

"You're quite the profiler."

Reid let the conversation fall knowing that they'd broach the topic eventually. Morgan slid so easily back into the way things were before that it was obvious this wasn't going to be the end. He allowed JJ and Prentiss to mother him and Morgan ushering them to the ambulance on site.

As Morgan's gash was tended to, Rossi and JJ tried to finish debriefing Reid who was only half listening. He tried not to watch Morgan, but it was almost unavoidable at this point. He wanted to get this lingering proverbial elephant out of the room. He wanted facts that his mind could invest in and become comfortable with. He wanted to be able to decide—based off of thoroughly discussed scenarios—what this was.

But when Morgan's eyes met his and he smiled, Reid's brain gave up. It seemed Morgan's game was always above par and today was no exception. His ability to play off what had happened like nothing at all was admirable and Reid would explain it to him, understanding better than most why Derek Morgan acted the way he did.

Reid was, after all, quite the profiler.


End file.
